


no one really knows how the game is played

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, its really vague but probably what you think it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 00:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11909844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Lafayette came back from France.Thomas should be happy about it. Lafayette is an old friend, one of his closest.It feels like a death sentence.





	no one really knows how the game is played

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this nearly a year ago back when i thought the idea was cool
> 
> its just kinda stupid now
> 
> and irks me with how much it butchers the historical personalities
> 
> but w/e

Lafayette came back from France. 

Thomas should be happy about it. Lafayette is an old friend, one of his closest. 

It feels like a death sentence.

He desperately longs for a normal, friendly reunion, but he knows he gave up that right when this mess started. 

Lafayette surprises him by giving it to him anyway. For a day or two.

Lafayette comes to his office nearing the end of the day, nearly yanks him out of his chair and into a hug, easily able to lift him. Thomas lets him for moment, forces a little laugh, then bats him off playfully. The conversation couldn’t be less about work, just rambling and catching up. Friends. It’s almost nice, but it’s not.

As he leaves, Lafayette asks if he’s seen Hamilton. Thomas says he’s probably locked up in his office, working himself to death. Nothing new then, jokes Lafayette. It’s almost funny, but it’s not.

It all goes well, considering the dread pumping in his veins in place of blood. 

And then it doesn’t. He can tell everything’s going to go wrong before he even really confirms it’s Lafayette in his office, still typing as the door opens. The air in the room goes cold as it does. He glances up and Lafayette is there, and at first glance he doesn’t even look mad. Just disapproving, mouth set into a hard line and eyes just slightly narrowed, exuding an almost parental “I’m not mad, just disappointed.” Then he looks a little closer, and his shoulders are tense, facial muscles just resisting a sneer; he’s holding back all the fury Thomas has been dreading.

Mr. Jefferson, he greets. Greets is too warm of a word, maybe.

(he should’ve seen this coming, should’ve realized. he’d seen them together, hamilton and lafayette, seen how ragged hamilton looked, how lafayette pressed him. he should’ve seen this coming.)

Damn, not even Thomas anymore? Because of course he is incapable of taking anything seriously.

The look he gets shuts him up. 

Their conversation still goes by frustratingly normal, barring Lafayette’s coldness. They talk shortly about work, and he knows it’s likely important, likely that Lafayette is only putting up with him because it’s important, so he files the information to process later, but he can’t truly focus until the other turns to leave, and stops. Stops and turns around, eyes squinted a little, head tilted just slightly and one hand mid-gesture, anger nearly drained from his posture. The man just looks like he’s trying to figure Thomas out, and Thomas barley holds back a snort. Good luck- he can’t even figure himself out.

Evidently he doesn’t hold back his snort well enough, because anger flashes in Lafayette’s eyes for a moment, restarting the fury. 

Why? asks Lafayette. It’s short, his expression screwed up, with no context given. There’s none needed- they both know what it’s about.

It catches Thomas by surprise, but doesn’t throw him. He smiles a little, the kind of asshole smile that even he hates, putting one arm up on the table and resting his chin on it. Will my word really change what you think of me? It’s everything he knows will piss Lafayette off, if that’s even in the right range of anger for this situation.

God, says Lafayette, cold and furious, nearly choking on it. Thomas is pretty sure that, were they not in their mutual office, Lafayette would have no qualms punching him in the fact. He kinda wishes that he would anyway. 

Well. Hamilton did offer anything. The words fall out before he can really think about them, but they fall out perfectly, auto-pilot letting his features fall into a casual grin, shrugging before he even notices.

Lafayette leaves without a word. He would almost use ‘in a huff,’ but it was bigger than that. Bigger than Lafayette realizes, he muses. If Thomas doesn’t make an effort to clear it, his vision blurs, and he can almost pretend the world is crumbling. It’s a comforting illusion.


End file.
